Toying With Me
by EdithFinch
Summary: What if Irene Adler wasn't the only child of the Adler family to touch Sherlock's life? Here comes Irene's sister, Lara, a teenager who somehow manages to launch herself into Sherlock's life. But she brings trouble of her own... (Sorry, really awful summary, it's so much more complicated than this says.) Rated T for (light?) torture and language. Reviews much appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

**Note: Short chapter is short. Other chapters will not be so short. :)  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Sherlock characters, except Lara. Lara Adler is a character of my creation and this work is copyrighted. Use of this work is permitted only with written consent of the author. 2013.**

**Gosh I'm so blunt. Sorry.**

Thud, thud, thud. Thud. Thudthudthudthudthud!

"What?" Sherlock asked sharply while opening the door, facing a young girl of about sixteen. She was maybe five foot three, with misty green eyes, and short reddish brown hair.

"Get down! Hide! Move," she said with an American accent as she briskly moved inside, shut the door and slid the bolt in place. John and Sherlock both simply looked at her.

"What are you doing in our flat?" John asked, "And why the hell do you have a gun?"

"Shut the hell up and do what I said! We have maybe a minute before they're here," she said, and, pointing at Sherlock with her gun, "You! Move that table over there, hide under it. John, I know you have a hand gun. Get it and hide behind that chair-"

"I have a gun too," Sherlock interrupted.

"Yeah, well, your aim is B.S. Now do what I said, I'll stand here behind the door and-"

Thunk. Thunk, thunk. Footsteps on the stairs.

"They're coming," the unknown girl said. "Be quiet, don't move, don't speak, don't _breath_."

"Why are we listening to an American teenager?" John whispered to Sherlock.

Thud, thud, thud. Another knock at the door. "Shhh…" she put a finger to her lips, but no sooner had she brought her finger down than the door was blown open.

"Find them, and bring them to me. I want them alive," a quite dangerous looking man said. He was at least six and a half feet tall, had a buzz cut, and scar running down his jaw and right bicep. It was as if he stepped out of a movie, John thought. As soon as he was done thinking this though, the man was knocked out on the ground, the girl had taken him out, and had gotten the attention of the two men that were with him.

She delivered three swift punches to the first man's face before kicking the second in the crotch, giving her time to finish the first with a blow to the head with the butt of her gun. She proceeded to kick the second in the face, give a blow to his nose with her elbow, and then push him to the ground while he was recovering. She then shot him in the head.

"Ah," wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, she said, "I never really liked him. Glad to have him gone for good. You know what, I could really go for a cup of tea." She turned to face Sherlock and John, but they both seemed too shocked to actually do anything. Well, John seemed shocked. Sherlock seemed slightly surprised.

"I'll turn the kettle on," Sherlock announced.


	2. Chapter 2

"Alright, you have some explaining to do. First, who are you? Second, who were those men? Why were they here? Why are you-" John was cut off by Sherlock.

"John, if you want any explaining done, you must give her a chance to speak," Sherlock insisted.

"Thanks, Holmes. My name is Lara, I'm sixteen, and I clearly know more about you than you know about me," the girl said.

"Wouldn't count on it," Sherlock muttered.

"Oh, really? Please tell me more about myself," Lara insisted.

"You're not sixteen, you're fifteen and a half. You're right handed, and you prefer not to use that gun. It was not your gun, it was your fathers. You took it after he died in an accident. You're a long way from home, not that it's much of a home, it was abusive. However, your parents taught you how to fight, if nothing else. We've met before, though only you remember. You have not been to England before, and all the information you have about John and I is mostly that which you've gathered yourself, though you had a bit of help from my brother, Mycroft. I could tell you more, but you already knew that."

Lara smirked. "So, you do know a bit don't you?"

"You're only fifteen, you're alone, and you just killed a man?" John asked. "We should call Greg," he said, looking at Sherlock worriedly.

"No! You can't call Lestrade!" she exclaimed.

"And why the hell not?" John asked, "You just basically broke into our flat and then killed a man in it."

"Oh, you know they were coming for you, with all the 'Find them… I want them alive,' shit," Lara said bluntly.

"Could you watch the language please?" John countered. Then, looking at Sherlock, who appeared deep in thought, he said, "Sherlock, are you planning on taking part in this conversation?"

"Crap, he's coming to," Lara said, referring to the head man on the floor, who's eyes were fluttering. Lara grabbed a book off the shelf and whacked him upside the head with it. The eyelid fluttering stopped. She gave a little snicker, "Books: amazing resources on a bunch of different levels."

"You're Irene Adler's sister," Sherlock said suddenly.

"What? What are you talking about? Who's Irene Ad-"

"Oh, shut up! I know you're lying, you're not American, and you're _The Woman's _sister."

"What are you two _talking about_?" John exclaimed.

"Well, that got me about this far," Lara said, holding her thumb and index finger together.

"Wait, you're Irene's sister?" John interceded. "I didn't know she had siblings."

"Of course you don't. She has a reputation you know!" She looked at John as if he were a stupid dog. "If I was mentioned, A) my reputation could be tainted, and she's a loving sister, so she wouldn't want that. And B) she could be in danger, but for God knows what reason."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter now that she's gone, does it," John replied.

"Uh, John-" Sherlock warned.

"What are you talking about?" Lara looked confused, then, as if she realized, "She's not dead." She scolded. "She's very much alive, saved by the great Sherlock Holmes himself." She gestured grandly towards Sherlock.

"What? Sherlock, what the hell is going on?" John tried to sound menacing, but just sounded puzzled and weak, both Lara and Sherlock noticed.

"John, I couldn't tell-" Sherlock was interrupted by a moaning coming from the men on the floor. Lara looked to Sherlock and said, "We have to kill them and get rid of them. It won't help, though, they were just sent to pick you up. The man behind all of this is so… Never mind. Do you want to question them first?"

"Nuhhh…ugh…" The men rolled their heads while giving semi-conscious grunts. Suddenly, the man who was in charge snapped awake, and, noticing he was tied to a kitchen chair, snarled, "What the f**k is going on?"

"I think, you should be the one telling us what is going on. You _are _the ones who broke into _our_ flat, after all," Sherlock growled. The man suddenly seemed to understand what was happening, and announced, "I'm not telling you s**t." Sherlock looked at John, who looked back at him as if to say, _What do you want to do?_ Then he looked at Lara, who wore a devilish grin, ready to shoot the man or hurt him in any way, shape, or form.

_Trigger-happy? No, doesn't like using guns. Oh, wanting revenge. What for? _Questions were swimming through Sherlock's head.

"Are you _sure _you don't want to tell us anything?" Sherlock persisted.

"Positive," the man spat out.

"Alright, your choice," Sherlock quipped. He then proceeded to grab the back of the chair and started dragging it toward the window.

"What are you doing?" Lara and the man asked at the same time.

"John knows. I'm reenacting what happened to the American after harming Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock said gleefully.

Crash! The man was out the window, toppled on top of Mrs. Hudson's bins. Again.

"Alright, let's go see what he has to say now," John offered.

"Oh, he'll have quite a lot to say," Sherlock replied, running down the stairs.

* * *

The three of them ran up to the man, groaning on the ground, cuts and blood covering him. He lay on his side, coughing up blood. Sherlock walked up and turned him onto his back, then lifted him into a sitting position. Lara and John threw each other worried looks.

"As I asked you before, who are you and why are you here?" Sherlock shouted, and Lara winced.

"I'm here to collect-" the man paused to spit out blood, "-you and your boyfriend."

"We aren't-" John tried to correct him, but was interrupted by Sherlock:

"Who are you, and who are you working for?" He roared.

"I told you, I'm not telling you anything!"

"Tell me!" Sherlock was losing his patience, not that he had much of it, and he decided to speed up the interrogation process. He took the ignorant man's arm and twisted it almost all the way around.

"Jim... Jim Moriarty!" The man screamed in pain.

"And who are you?"

"Uh, Sherlock..." John interrupted.

"One moment, John! Who are you?"

"Uh, Sherlock, it's important!"

"What John!" He snapped.

"Lara's gone."


	3. Chapter 3

Surely enough, when Sherlock turned around, he found that the girl had in fact, fled the scene. Sherlock gave a quick, "I'll be back for you," to the man on the ground, then ran back around to the door of 221B. The consulting detective slowly, silently walked up the stairs and pushed the door open. He found Lara sitting on the love seat with his dressing gown on, drying her hair with a towel.

"Made use of your bathroom, hope you don't mind," she said.

"Of course not," he replied stiffly. Sherlock turned to find John jogging up the stairs. He reached the top and got a good look at Lara.

"What are you doing?" John looked truly puzzled.

"Well, I've been on the road for days, I needed to freshen up."

"Alright, do you have any other clothes?" John asked.

"No, she has nothing but the clothes that _were_ on her back," Sherlock answered for her. "She plans to stay awhile, though."

"What?"

"Well, I was hoping you wouldn't mind. You need me, anyways," she quipped.

"Nope. No way. Sorry, we can't take care of a child right now," John said blankly.

"I am not a child!" She shouted. Her gun was pointed at the doctor's head, her glare like an iron grip on him.

"Lara, put the gun down-" Sherlock tried to stop her but suddenly the gun was pointed at him.

"I know how to take care of myself. _Don't _call me a child again." she growled.

"Alright, alright, calm down, we'll talk about this." John tried helplessly to calm her down. She lowered her gun. "Thank you, now, why exactly do we need you?"

"As I said, those men were only sent to pick you up. The man behind all this, Moriarty, he practically has an army of criminals out to kill you and or bring you to him."

"Your point being?" Sherlock pushed.

"You would likely be dead or tied up in the backseat of a car had I not shown up and saved your asses."

"Mmm…" Sherlock appeared to be avoiding the conversation.

"You can call Lestrade now," she said.

"Why now?" John again looked puzzled.

"Well, I'm really not in a killing mood, and I don't feel like sharing the couch with Mister Baddie over there." She nodded her head towards the other intruder, still passed out.

"I'll text him," Sherlock offered.

"Sherlock, you could just call him this once," John sounded exasperated.

"John, he prefers to text, you should know this," Lara smirked.

Sherlock picked up John's phone off the table and texted Greg Lestrade:

_Break in at Baker Street, three men. Also, strange teenage girl, do not be alarmed at her presence. Send least irritating officer or yourself at once. Preferably the latter._

_-SH_

He put the phone back down and sat down in his chair.

"Why are you here?" he asked, while staring intently at Lara.

"I told you. To save your asses," she said, staring back.

"But why? Why. Did. You. Stop them."

"If you're such a great detective, why don't you try to figure it out for yourself?"

"Because, I want you to admit it."

"I will admit nothing to you," she fumed. She started subconsciously reaching for her gun. Sherlock snatched it before she could touch it.

"Ah, I see. Abused? Obviously. Even you had to catch that John," Lara glared at him, clearly he had crossed some sort of line. "She felt I was threatening her," he continued, "so she prepared- subconsciously- to protect herself."

Lara tried quickly to take the gun from him, but he pulled his hand back.

"Give it to me, or so help me I will kill you," she warned.

"I want to see what happens if you're unarmed for a bit. Let's call it an experiment," Sherlock retorted.

"Remember, I know how to fight, I am never unarmed."

"And remember, there is also a soldier living in this flat," John butt in. Sherlock and Lara both gave him a look that told him he didn't make a difference.

"Right then. I guess I'll go get some blankets," John said, rising from the chair he was sitting in. "I'll be right back."

"I noticed Mrs. Hudson has some of her granddaughter's clothes put away in her closet, she might lend them to you," Sherlock said, making no move to get up.

"And why would she lend them to me?"

"Just a thought."

Suddenly a door slammed downstairs.

"Sherlock, dear, I'm back from the salon!"

She appeared at the doorway and saw Lara. "Oh! Sorry to intrude!"

"Not at all Mrs. Hudson. This is our guest, Lara. She'll be staying with us for a while." Sherlock seemed completely relaxed.

"Oh, you look so young, dear..." Mrs. Hudson looked puzzled. Or worried. Lara couldn't tell.

"Thanks, I guess. I'm fifteen."

"Oh! And how do you know John?" The landlady asked.

"Oh, my sister used to work with Sherlock. They were also friends. We used to know each other too." Lara was completely nonchalant.

"Alright, nice meeting you dear. If you ever need to get away from the boys, come downstairs and I'll get you a nice cup of tea."

"Mrs. Hudson, you wouldn't happen to have any of your granddaughter's old clothes would you?" Sherlock asked

"Well, I do, actually. Why?"

"The airline lost Lara's luggage and she needs some things to wear."

"Sorry to hear that dear," Mrs. Hudson gave Lara a sad look. "I'll go get the box."

"Thank you," Lara sounded sincere.

Mrs. Hudson turned and walked down the stairs, muttering something about a poor girl. Lara turned to Sherlock. "You didn't have to do that."

"I want my dressing gown back," he replied. Then John walked in with a pile of blankets.

"I'll sleep here on the couch, you can use my room," he said.

"I couldn't possibly-"

"Of course not, she will use my bedroom. I'm usually out here anyways," Sherlock said. He appeared to be trying to be gentlemanly, but Lara and John both knew there was something behind it.

"Thank you, Sherlock," Lara sounded suspicious, but grateful.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Also, song lyrics belong to Rough Cut Music, it's a Savage Garden song, not my own lyrics. So, rights go to respectable owners.**

* * *

"So, what happened again?" DI Lestrade asked Sherlock.

"Well, we were all just sitting here when the three men walked in, clearly they had no idea _what _they were doing because they just _walked in._"

"And…" Gregory Lestrade was struggling to get any information out of Sherlock. It was like this a lot, but today he seemed more mysterious and vague than ever.

"And then John knocked them all out."

"Alright, then how did one of them get shot in the head? And another outside, on the ground?"

"I tried to help by shooting one of the men in the arm, but my aim is awful and I ended up shooting him in the head." Sherlock seemed like a hopeless liar. But he wasn't really. He was putting on an act, and Lestrade was buying it.

"And the man on the ground."

"He tripped and fell out the window."

"Mhmm… And the girl, what's her name?"

"Lara."

"Yeah, what does she have to do with all of this?"

"She's a friend. She's simply visiting a while."

"Yeah, 'visiting a while' my ass, Sherlock. What's she really doing here?"

"Let's just say John and I are alive right now because of her." Sherlock's voice was low, he clearly didn't want anyone else to hear; especially Lara.

"Sherlock, you need to tell me what's going on."

"No I don't."

"Fine, whatever, I'm leaving."

DI Lestrade turned and walked away, but paused briefly by the door to run a hand over his face and let out a sigh. He then continued down the stairs and out of 221B. As soon as Sherlock heard the door shut, he picked up his violin and started playing. For him, music was not just music. It was equations, it was chemistry. If you mixed things just right, then you could get something beautiful. Sherlock's music, however sad or mysterious it may sound, is always beautiful, in its own way. When Sherlock stopped playing, perhaps an hour or two later, he turned around to see Lara sitting on the couch, staring at him intently. Her legs were tucked beneath her and her chin was resting in her palm; she appeared to be studying him. He put his violin down next to the window, its usual resting place, and sank into his chair, facing the girl he had yet to understand fully.

"How long have you been watching me?"

"An hour, maybe two," she said, still staring intently.

"Mmm… You like music?"

"Very much." She moved her head from its resting place on her palm and sat up a little straighter. Music was something she could easily talk about, it had been her escape in those awful years at home.

"Do you play?"

"I used to play piano, and violin as well. Neither worked for me like… Never mind." She almost revealed too much, she didn't want to embarrass herself.

"Singing." Sherlock stated this as if he had known her forever.

"How did you know?" She looked confused, and slightly flustered. No one knew about her singing, not even Irene.

He smirked. "Sing something for me."

"What? No, sorry." Her cheeks were getting redder by the second. Sherlock looked at her, to his violin, then back at her.

"I played for you for almost two hours."

"You didn't know I was here."

"Then pretend I'm not here."

She glared at him, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She began to sing:

_"And she takes another step,_

_Slowly she opens the door,_

_Check that he is sleeping, pick up all the broken glass_

_And furniture on the floor._

_Been up half the night screaming_

_Now it's time to get away, pack up the kids in the car._

_Another bruise to try and hide,_

_Another alibi to write._

_Another ditch in the road, keep moving,_

_Another stop sign, you keep moving on._

_And the years go by so fast,_

_Wonder how I ever made it through.*"_

She finishes, but waits a few moments before opening her eyes. When she does, Sherlock is practically staring at her, a small smile on his face.

"That was quite gratifying," he says, completely sincerely.

"Really? That's odd coming from you. I was honestly scared to stop singing for fear you'd lecture me on how to achieve the right pitch or something. But… thank you." She smiled at him, a twinkle in her eye. Sherlock looked deep into those eyes and found something else. A sadness. Buried deep, covered with her laughter and her tough attitude.

"Interesting song choice," he added.

The way Sherlock spoke to her, she wanted to tell him everything. How she was treated, how she felt, what she wanted, what she needed. She was only with him for a day so far, and she was getting closer to him than she wanted to be. She had never been open with anyone before, never had a friend or good parent to simply sit and listen. But it was not time for all her secrets to be revealed. Not yet.

"Just like John keeps you alive, that song kept me alive," she said, then abruptly stood up and walked to Sherlock's bedroom, closing the door behind her. She left Sherlock sitting silently in his chair, staring at the door, the light seeping under the crack. He went onto John's computer and checked the news for any new cases, and every few minutes he would look to his bedroom door. He stayed up into ungodly hours of the night, but the light in his bedroom never went off. Lara had left him wondering how she could be almost as mysterious as her sister.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning was almost the same as every other morning on Baker Street: John was on his blog, Sherlock lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling blankly. But there was a quirk in the normal routine, because Lara was there, sitting in Sherlock's chair drinking tea. John seemed a little stiff while typing, likely because he was a bit uncomfortable sharing his flat with a fifteen year old girl. Sherlock seemed fine, more than fine, he had actually said good morning and asked John and Lara how they slept. They knew something was up, Sherlock never made small talk. John left for work around nine, and at eleven, Lara announced she was going out.

"Alright, I'm going out, I'll be back soon," she said. Sherlock immediately sat up.

"Where are you going?"

"I told you, out."

With that, she stood up and walked out the door, closing it lightly behind her. Sherlock ran to his room and put some decent clothes on; he was not passing up an opportunity to learn more about Lara. Tying his beloved blue scarf around his neck, he ran out the door, yelling goodbye to Mrs. Hudson on the way out.

Lara continued down Baker Street, somewhat hurriedly. It was a bit windy out, and her short hair kept getting into her eyes. She wondered if Sherlock would follow her, then thought, _If he knows what's best for him, he'll stay at the flat._ She picked up her pace, and turned left onto George Street, then right onto Manchester Street. Walking into Manchester Square, she scanned the trees for the one marked with an _A. _

Sherlock had followed Lara from a distance, and knew almost immediately where she was headed. He took a different route to the square, not wanting to be seen by Lara. He snuck into the park and hid behind a tree- _Not very creative, _he thought- watching the young Adler from a distance. He saw her bend over by another tree, and he squinted his eyes to better see what she was doing.

Lara bent over, and dug around in the dirt until she found it. A little brown box. She opened it and took out the mobile phone inside, then punched in the numbers she knew so well. The phone didn't ring long before the receiver picked up.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, it's me. I'm in," Lara said.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Positive."

"Make sure you don't get too attached." The voice said, quite sternly.

"Of course. But I am going to be here awhile…"

"That doesn't matter. You are there to watch him, and protect if necessary. Nothing else."

"But-"

"Besides, he is quite a bit older than you. And romantically involved with John, yes?" It was not a question.

"I'm not interested in him like that, but I don't think they're toge-"

"Goodbye, Ms. Adler. Do your job, would you?" The person on the other end hung up. Lara sighed and put the phone back in the box. She put the box back in the ground and covered it. Humming a melancholy song to herself, she walked over to a park bench and sat down, taking out a small journal. Opening it, she took out a small, stubby pencil. She began to write:

_May 13, 2012_

_Last night was my first night in Sherlock and John's flat. Sherlock let me sleep in his bedroom, but I didn't actually sleep at all. Though I have to trust him, it'll be awhile before I sleep around him. John has been alright, very stiff and orderly. He also seems to have a small obsession with jumpers (haha). Sherlock is… Oh, what is Sherlock? I can't tell. He seems so rude and arrogant on the outside, but he's been kinder to me than anyone… Besides Irene of course! (Love my sister, haven't heard from her in a while…)_

_Sherlock got me to sing last night, and I don't. Know. How. You know I've never sung for anyone, that's been a secret between you and me, but Sherlock, I don't know, when I'm around him, I feel safe, and like I can tell him anything. I don't know. It's a stupid feeling, and could be problematic if it interferes with my job… STOP FEELING THESE FEELINGS, LARA! Ugh… I just needed to let it out… I'm very tired, so I'll take a quick nap while I'm alone._

_Until next time, diary,_

_Lara Adler_

Sherlock watched in fascination as the tough as nails teen wrote in a diary. He honestly did not see it coming, but understood. Someone who is/was abused will obviously keep a journal; if no one listens to their feelings, it is often the only way they can get it all out. He wondered how bad it could have been at home for her to have left so young. He kept watching as she put the journal and pencil back in her coat pocket, and stretch out on the bench. He watched her close her eyes and quickly fall asleep. After letting her sleep for a few minutes, he walked up to her, debating whether or not to take a peek in her most private thoughts. _I don't need them to figure her out, _he thought. Hesitating again, he shook her awake.

"Nughh… Stop, Dad, stop it!"

"It's Sherlock."

"Wha-?" Lara quickly opened her eyes and sat up.

"Hello." Sherlock gave one of his sexy half smiles (that John secretly loved) and had a twinkle in his eye.

"What are you doing here? Did you follow me?" Lara had gone from confused and sleepy-eyed to angry and wide-eyed.

"I was walking to the shop when I decided to cut through here. I saw you sleeping here, and thought you'd fallen asleep accidentally; I'd hate to see you get mugged."

"Uh, yeah right."

Sherlock held his hands up. "It's the truth! Care to join me?"

Lara looked at him sternly for a moment, and then got up. "Yeah, sure."

As they walked silently toward the shop, Lara turned her head slightly to get a better look at Sherlock, hoping he wouldn't notice. She kept looking until Sherlock suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her to the right.

"Ow! What was that for?" Lara seemed more confused than angry.

"You almost ran into a tree; you weren't looking where you were going." Sherlock spoke like nothing had happened, but he wore another small smile. Lara felt her cheeks turning pink, he had caught her looking at him. And while she wasn't looking at him in _that way_, it was still embarrassing.

They arrived at the shop and Sherlock picked up a carton of milk. He then pulled out the exact amount of change necessary for it, and laid it on the counter. Not waiting for the cashier to take it, he laced his arm through Lara's and walked out the door with her. As soon as they were out of the shop, though, Lara yanked her arm away.

"What was that?" She hissed.

"Is that not the way a man walks with a woman?" Sherlock looked confused, and somewhat hurt. Lara stopped walking and slapped a hand to her face.

"Oh my God, Sherlock, you're like, twice my age."

"Why, that's insulting. I'm twenty-seven."

"Oh my Goddd... Sherlock, that's how you walk with a woman _your age_. I am _not your age_."

"Oh. My apologies."

"No, no. It's fine, you didn't know, I guess..."

Lara started walking again, and Sherlock silently joined her. Lara realised that while Sherlock was a genius, he had no idea how to act around people other than the few that accepted him: John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and Mycroft. _And Irene_, she thought. Then she smiled. _And myself. I think..._

Sherlock was confused, very confused. Almost as much as he was with Irene. _What is going on, who is Lara, who is behind her actions, what will I do about Moriarty? _His head was full of questions, and explanations. It was a puzzle that he knew how to put together, he was simply missing a few of the pieces.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: Short chapter is short.**

That night, they decided to get Chinese takeout. Lara tried to pay for it, but they wouldn't let her. _You're our guest_, they said. They hadn't wanted to risk calling her a child again. While they were eating, or rather, while John was eating and Lara was pretending to eat, Sherlock got a call from Lestrade. Apparently the remaining man who attacked them had snapped and spilled the beans.

When the three of them got to Scotland Yard- Sherlock and John tried to keep Lara at the flat, but she insisted on coming- they were greeted by a very stressed DI Lestrade. He took them to a room with a few computer monitors, and showed them the interrogation film.

"Who are you working for?" The voice belonged to Sally Donovan.

"Jim Moriarty."

"And what are you supposed to be doing, by his orders?"

"We were supposed to bring Sherlock to him, but the little bitch got to him first."

"Who are you referring to?"

"The girl."

"What girl?" Sally was getting frustrated.

"I don't know, she was sent to protect them." At this, Sherlock turned to look at Lara, but only saw the door shutting behind her. Not willing to let this slip, he briskly followed her. John, seeing where this was going, asked Greg if he'd be willing to show them another time, and then followed Sherlock. All John had to follow was the flip of Sherlock's overcoat as he ran around corners, trying to catch up to Lara.

Sherlock was frustrated, no, angry, he was angry. And confused. Why was he so confused? This should be easy. Mycroft. He must have sent her. No, that made too much sense. Suddenly he saw her turn around a corner. He started running towards her, and she broke into a full out sprint, but she couldn't run as fast as Sherlock. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into an empty office.

"Who sent you?" Sherlock was not yelling, but there was fire in his eyes and voice. Lara said nothing.

"Who sent you?" He yelled this time, and Lara flinched. She started backing into a corner, Sherlock grabbed her arm to stop her, and that's when her eyes went wide, and her face grew terrified.

She wasn't looking at Sherlock, she couldn't see him or hear him. Suddenly, she fell the ground, screaming. She grabbed onto a desk, and pushed it away, and starting kicking and screaming. Sherlock had a fairly good idea of what was going on. He had provoked a very unpleasant memory, and Lara was having a flashback. She started crying, flailing her arms about, begging for something to stop. Sherlock tried to soothe her, but with no use. She was crying and screaming uncontrollably now, clearly in pain, and she had managed to slap him in the face and scratch him a few times.

"No! Please, stop! No! No! Please-" Lara continued to beg for the mysterious pain to stop.

"Lara! Lara calm down!" Sherlock's voice. "Lara, please stop. Please. You're okay, calm down."

Lara was on the floor, lashing out. She started to hear Sherlock, and slowly stopped screaming and flailing about and opened her tearstained eyes and saw him, kneeling on the ground next to her. "What… What's going on?" She asked. Lara looked up at Sherlock.

"I was just… My dad… I… He…"

"You were screaming."

"It hurt… It hurt…" She buried her head in Sherlock's chest. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her. A moment later, John walked in. He looked around and saw a violently shaking Lara engulfed in Sherlock's arms. John was jealous. Wait, he was? He pushed the thought aside. Something was wrong with Lara.

"What's going on? Is Lara okay?" John quickly walked over and knelt down beside them. Sherlock gave him a look that said, _No, she is not okay, we need to do something._

"We need to take her to the hospital," John continued. Sherlock shook his head no. _Our flat, _he mouthed.

"Lara? Lara, you're okay, we need to go now," Sherlock spoke with a soothing voice John didn't know he was capable of. Lara nodded her head. Sherlock helped her up and she quickly walked away from the both of them. John followed behind, feeling useless. Leaving the building, they passed Lestrade.

"What is going on?" He asked.

"I have no idea. Sherlock hasn't told me what happened. We're taking her back to the flat."

"Alright, I guess. I would recommend a hospital."

"That's what I thought too, but Sherlock said no. I'll keep you updated, I guess."

"Yeah, please do." _Poor girl, _he thought.

John hailed a cab while Lara stood silently next to Sherlock. They all got strange looks from the cabbie on the way home, but by the time they arrived home, they had gotten Lara to talk.

She sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, holding a glass of water she wasn't going to drink. John sat across from her, in his chair, and Sherlock sat next to her on the couch.

"What happened?" John questioned her.

"I… I remembered. And… and, I tried _so hard _to forget…"

"Forget what?"

"What he did to me."

"What did he do to you, Lara?" John was speaking as calmly as he could, he didn't quite understand what was going on fully.

Looking at Sherlock, she said, "Make a deduction." Quickly, she removed the blanket, set the water on the coffee table and stood up. "Goodnight." She walked into Sherlock's room and closed the door behind her. John almost got up after her, but Sherlock motioned for him to stay.

"She did that to me the first night she stayed here."

"She sure is… Something else."

"Mmm."

"Blimey, what are we going to do, Sherlock?"

"Find out what Moriarty wants- besides us!"


	7. Chapter 7

A few days later, Lara still hadn't said anything. She was also going to Manchester Square every few days. Sherlock didn't follow her anymore, he thought (surprisingly) she deserved privacy after what she had experienced right in front of him. One day, while she was out, John and Sherlock were left alone discussing her. John's main point was that he had no idea what to do. Sherlock was trying to piece the puzzle together; he had three nicotine patches on. He was thinking of getting a fourth.

"Sherlock…" John needed to tell him, and now was as good a time as ever.

"Yes, John?"

"Well, I, uh…"

"What is it John?" He was lying on the loveseat, but turned his head so as to face John.

"When I'm around you, I feel a really odd, happy feeling. And when you were hugging Lara yesterday, I was really jealous, and I know it's stupid and you probably don't feel the same way, but… Ireallywanttokissyourightnow." John hurriedly finished, and blushed. Sherlock smiled.

"You what?" He said. John huffed, got up and knelt by Sherlock, then kissed him. All in one swift movement. When John kissed him, Sherlock smiled, and then said:

"I've waited for you to do that, John."

Unfortunately, the moment was short-lived, because they heard Lara coming up the stairs. John quickly returned to his seat, and was just picking up his tea as Lara ran in, breathless. She slammed the door behind her and locked the door.

"Someone's coming," she said, still catching her breath.

"What?" John asked, and Sherlock sat up.

"Someone's f**king coming!" She yelled.

"Who?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't know, dark brown hair, brushed back. High forehead, dark eyes, and a bit of a stubble. He also had two men with him, one of them he sent running after me."

"Moriarty." Sherlock said. Lara let out a deep breath.

"My dad was with them."

Sherlock and John both leaned towards Lara. Sherlock smiled a bit. This was a twist he didn't expect. Lara's father, working for Moriarty. Oh, this was exciting. This was a case, if Sherlock had ever seen one.

"Lara, have you forgotten to mention something?" Sherlock smiled as he asked her this.

"That you were wrong about my dad dying in an accident?"

"Exactly that."

"Yes, well, my very alive dad and his friends work for Moriarty."

"Right, and-" John tried to participate in the conversation, but that wasn't going to happen.

"Yes, and remember the man you shot?" Sherlock continued.

"A friend of my father."

"Yes, and why did you shoot him, but not the others? Why did you say, 'never really liked him?'"

"Because he-"

"Because he what Lara? What made you hate him so much that you shot him on the spot?" A smile still tugged at Sherlock's lips.

"He was one of the friends my father let… My father let him…" Lara couldn't finish the sentence, she just couldn't. Her eyes watered, and she tried to blink back the tears but was unable. They strolled down her cheeks, slowly and silently.

"I know." Sherlock's smile faded. "I know what he let them do."

Lara's tears came quickly know, and she wiped them away with the back of her hands. She was showing too much emotion, her employer would not be pleased. When she came for her job, to watch and protect Sherlock, she did not expect any of this to happen, did not expect to feel so close to him; and John too, really. She was beginning to admire John's extensive collection of sweaters. She regained control, and then spoke.

"They will be here, soon, we have to prepare."

"No, when Moriarty comes in person, it isn't like that."

"What is it like?"

"Imagine if Mycroft was a criminal genius." John said. Sherlock smiled.

"Ooh, I like that," he said.

"I have to get out of here," Lara said, heading to the door.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"My dad is coming, and I haven't seen him since I left six months ago, and I really don't ever want to see him again. I want to forget about him, and that can't happen if he comes anywhere near me, because he might try again-"

"Lara, I won't let him harm you," he said.

She scoffed. "That's hardly your job."

Lara's eyes softened, and she smiled a bit. Then she quickly whipped out her tough attitude again; she was ready to fight a battle of arms or of wits. This was the Lara she was proud to be, strong, despite what had happened to her.

"There is no need to be so dramatic," she said. "Besides, I have a feeling you two will need your asses saved again."

Sherlock smiled, John rolled his eyes, and they all heard the feet on the stairs. Sherlock rose to his feet and opened the door for them. Moriarty smiled, then said, "You are always ready to please, Sherlock."

Sherlock smirked. "If you say so."

The three men- Moriarty, Lara's father, and another man- walked in, Moriarty sat in Sherlock's chair, while the two other men went and stood post at opposite sides of the room, blocking the exits. John sat on the couch, Sherlock sat in John's chair, and Lara stood next to Sherlock. Lara's father glared at her, and gave her a small, wave-like gesture that meant, _beating time. _He mouthed 'bad girl' to her, but Lara kept a strong stare at him, before turning to Sherlock and Moriarty, who were both looking at her.

"It appears that you and one of my men have unfinished business," Moriarty said to Lara.

"Well, _it appears _you're wrong. It was finished a long time ago," she retorted.

"I don't think so," Moriarty sing-songed. Speaking to Lara's father, "take her outside, do what you wish. She can't be allowed to continue anyways."

Lara's face turned pale and let out a breath as her father quickly knocked her to the floor and started dragging her to the door. Lara threw her legs over her head and kicked him in the face, but her father would not release her. Sherlock jumped up and pulled him off of her, and threw him to the ground, as John punched the other man, who had charged at him. With both of Moriarty's men on the ground, Sherlock and John turned to face him.

"Don't. Touch. Lara." Sherlock fumed.

"Touch her how? The way her father did? Or the way her father's friends did?" Jim Moriarty smiled at Lara, a menacing smile. A way of telling her that he knew about her past.

"What?" John was puzzled. To Sherlock, John was never puzzled, just in need of a clear explanation.

"Don't," Lara warned.

"What? Make you remember?" Moriarty was enjoying himself by tormenting Lara.

"I don't need _you_ to make me remember, I have the scars on my skin, the images burned into my brain."

"What is it that you want exactly? Besides us?" Sherlock was sitting again, and sounded relaxed, but fierce and protective at the same time.

"I want to play a game, Sherlock. I want to see if you are as smart as me."

"A game? What are you talking about, a game?" Sherlock spit the words out.

"Just consider this my first move," Moriarty said, getting up. As he walked out the door, his men, who were just standing up, grabbed John and dragged him down the stairs. Sherlock ran after them, a bit behind because he was surprised, with Lara trailing him. Just as he got outside, though, they were driving away in a car.

"Shit, this has gotten out of hand," Lara said. "I am _so _in trouble!"

"They have John."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"They have my John!" he roared. Lara's eyes grew wide, and she took a step back, and then realized he was honestly scared for John. She saw the tears in his eyes, saw how scared he was. She walked towards him and grabbed him by the shoulders, looked up at him and said, "We will find your John."


	8. Chapter 8

Lara and Sherlock sat awkwardly on Mycroft's couch. They knew they couldn't find John alone, Moriarty hadn't left any clues as to where they might have gone. So, they came to Mycroft, knowing he could track the car. They had given him the license plate number, and he had gone to make a call, to see if the car could be found. Moments later, he walked in. Sherlock stood

"They found the car's final destination," the older Holmes said.

"Where?" Lara spoke for Sherlock, he seemed too 'out of it' to say anything.

Mycroft frowned. "The now _disused _Battersea Power Station."

"Right then. Thanks Mr. Holmes."

"You best be going."

"Of course. Sherlock?" Lara looked to him, but he was staring into space. "Sherlock?" No reply. She slapped him hard across the face.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Pull yourself together man! Do you ever want to see John again?"

Sherlock looked hard at her, a sad look on his face, like he were all worn out. Then he turned and faced Mycroft, nodded, and went running out the door. Lara followed without another word. After hailing a cab, Sherlock turned to Lara. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being here."

And with that, Sherlock ushered Lara into the awaiting cab, slid in himself, and shut the door.

"The old Battersea Power Station."

"The old one?" The cabbie seemed a mix of confused and suspicious.

"Yes, the old one," Sherlock snapped.

"We're in a bit of a hurry," Lara added politely.

* * *

Upon arriving at their destination, the cabbie once again asked if it was the right place. After being reassured it was, he left his customers, but not before he was given a generous tip. Lara and Sherlock started walking towards the building, both scared. Knowing this, Lara laced her hand through Sherlock's. Sherlock stopped walking and looked at her, questioningly. Then he saw that she was nervous as well, and squeezed her hand. They continued walking.

The building was large, and they went down many halls and into many rooms before finding the one with John. He was alone, tied to a chair, with a cell phone on the floor at his feet. Sherlock ran to him and kissed him hard on the mouth. While he worked to cut the rope with a pocket knife, Lara picked up the phone and turned it on. The phone number was already put in, all they had to do was press call. Lara pushed the green button and listened to the dial tone for a mere second before Moriarty answered.

"So you found John. I am disappointed, though. Going to the big brother for help, instead of figuring it out on your own. Tisk tisk, Sherlock."

"Lara, actually."

John and Sherlock turned their heads toward Lara. They hadn't even noticed she'd picked up the phone.

"Oh!" Moriarty laughed. "Funny you should call, this next move is all about you."

"What?" There was a trace of fear in Lara's voice, even though she had tried to cover it up.

"Lara, what's wrong?" Sherlock had freed John and was now at her side.

"I think you're about to find out," she turned to face him. She did not look afraid, it could only be heard in her voice.

"Bye bye, Lara." Moriarty sang.

Lara turned away from Sherlock and quickly got into a fighting stance. She looked around the room, scanning for threats. After she had determined there weren't any, she put her gun down, and turned to John and Sherlock.

"We need to leave. Now."

Sherlock and John nodded, and John stood up. Following Lara, who had brought out her gun again, they ran out of the power station. Once they were safely in another cab, Sherlock and John turned to Lara, who was staring out the window.

"Lara, what did he say to you?" Sherlock asked.

"He said that his next move was all about me. Then he said goodbye."

"While I was stuffed in the backseat of their car, I heard snippets of what they were saying," the doctor added.

"What did they say?" Lara felt a need to know what awaited her.

"Well, they kept talking about you," he said, looking at Lara. "And they said they were going to give you some new memories."

Lara's eyes went wide, as they usually did when she was afraid. She quickly became composed. When she informed her employer on the threat posed against the doctor and the detective, she did not expect her job would be this difficult. Or this threatening to her, personally.

"Do you know what they mean?" Sherlock asked. "Surely it has a personal meaning."

"Yes, I know what they mean." She made it clear that she was not going to tell them.

Suddenly, the cab pulled over to the side of the road. Sherlock noted their surroundings: empty country road, very dark out, trees on either side of the road. He started piecing things together.

"Get out of the cab," he said calmly. Thinking of Lara only, he shoved her out of the car, but before he and John could exit, the cab shot onto the road, and the cabbie locked the doors. Sherlock started tugging on the door's latch, but to no avail. They were trapped inside the moving car.

"I should've known," Sherlock muttered. "There are never cabs around the power station."

"I'm surprised, Mr. Holmes. The boss didn't think you'd fall for it," the 'cabbie' said.


	9. Chapter 9

Lara was alone. Again. She hated the dark, was afraid of it as a child. That is, until her father started… No, she wasn't going to think about that. She had to find a way back to Baker Street. Unfortunately, she had no idea where she was. After walking up and down the street for a couple minutes, a car came driving up the road. Lara started waving her hands like crazy, trying to get the car to stop. The car came to a halt a few feet in front of her.

"Excuse me?"

"Hello love, what are you doing out here?"

"Oh, I went for a jog, and got lost. Can you tell me where I am please?" Lara gave the driver puppy dog eyes.

"Well, to be exact, we're on Dark Hill right now," the kindly driver said. Lara let out a kind of snort. Of all the places Moriarty could've had her dropped off, he had to be dramatic and choose Dark Hill.

"Thanks. Do you know where I can get a cab?" She asked.

"I'll give you a ride,"

"No, that's alright."

"No, really!" And with that, another man opened the back door and grabbed her, trying to pull her in. She yanked herself backwards, pulling the man somewhat out of the car, then slammed her head into the man's head. Very precisely, of course. He fell into the seat, unconscious. As soon as his body hit the leather, Lara booked it in the opposite direction of the car. She had been to Dark Hill before, she knew where to find houses with people who could help her. Following a gut instinct, she took a right, running as fast as she could. She soon stumbled upon a cozy looking neighborhood. She ran up to a house with lights on and slammed on the door. A woman Irene's age opened the door. She was naturally pretty, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. She looked tired, but kind.

"Hello, can I help you?" The woman smiled at Lara. Lara brought tears to her eyes and sniffled.

"A man- a man just tried to nab me, can I please use your phone to call the police?"

"Oh, my Lord!" the woman looked shocked. "Come inside, I'll call the police."

"Thank you," Lara mumbled. Then she burst into fake tears.

"Oh dear, it's okay, you'll be alright." The woman put one arm around Lara while reaching for her phone with her other hand.

"Could you- could you please ask for Detective Inspector Lestrade? He's a family friend," Lara continued. The woman nodded, and guided Lara to a couch. Then she put the phone to her ear.

"Yes, hello. I need to speak to Detective Inspector Lestrade. Well, he has a friend here who just escaped from an attempted kidnapping. One moment." She turned to Lara, "What's your name dear?"

"Lara Adler."

"Her name's Lara Adler. Yes. No. Upper Park Road, London. Thank you." She hung up. "He's on his way dear. Let me get you a cuppa."

John and Sherlock were still sitting in the back of the prison of a cab as Lara was receiving tea from a very kind woman. Sherlock was staring at the back of the driver's seat, trying to piece everything together, and having difficulty. John sat silently next to Sherlock, twiddling his thumbs.

"John."

"Yes, Sherlock?"

He turned to face John. "I'm glad that I'm here with you, John." Then he clasped John's hand. John smiled.

"Do you think Lara's okay?" John asked.

"No, I think another car came and took her."

"Oh, you are a clever boy!" The driver quipped. Sherlock leaned forward, almost into the driver's face.

"What are they going to do to her?" He demanded. The driver laughed, but said nothing. Sherlock leaned back, and John placed his hand on Sherlock's cheek, calming him with the subtle gesture.

"She's going to be alright, Sherlock. You've seen what she can do."

"Yes, but I have also found her weakness, and if I have, then so has Moriarty."

There was a knock on the door, the woman opened it to find Lestrade standing on the other side.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade." He said, holding his badge up. "Is Lara Adler here?"

"Yes, right this way." The woman started guiding him to her living room, where Lara was sitting. "I'm Sarah, by the way. She doesn't show any signs of being in shock, except crying, but she seems tough."

They walked into the room, and Lara looked up. She almost smiled, but caught herself just in time. Starting her sniffles again, she got up and ran across the room to Lestrade, hugging him.

"Oh, Uncle Greg, I'm so glad you're here!"

"Right, well… We, uh, better go." He said, looking at Sarah apologetically. "Thanks for taking care of her."

"No problem." Sarah smiled and guided them out of the house. Once outside, Lara let go of Greg. Brushing herself off and walking to the cop car, she said, "Sherlock's in a lot of trouble."

"What? Where is he? And why are you here?" The detective inspector stopped walking and looked at Lara confusedly.

"I'll explain on the way to The Yard." And with that, she slid into the passenger seat.

"Alright. So, Moriarty has John and Sherlock, he tried to get you but failed, your dad works for Moriarty, and the guy wants to play _a game_?" Lestrade tried to summarise, in an attempt to understand the situation better. Lara nodded.

Greg ran a hand over his face. He was exhausted. His latest case was on three serial killings. He'd been spending all his time on it, he didn't have time to take care of Sherlock. He sighed. Sherlock was always getting himself into trouble, and all because he was bored. Straightening his back, he asked, "What do we need to do?"

"Nothing. I know where they're taking them, I just needed a ride here, where I could call a taxi, and I knew you wouldn't take me here if I didn't tell you everything." Walking to the door, she added, "Thanks, bye!"

"Wait!" Lestrade started walking after her. She was only a child, she couldn't go by herself to save Sherlock and John from the greatest criminal mind in the world. He ran out the door, and looked left, only to see Lara hailing a cab. By the time he reached her, she was closing the door and the cab was pulling away from the pavement.

"Shit." He ran a hand over his face again. After reading the license plate number, he turned and walked back into his place of work.


	10. Chapter 10

_Swish._ Blindfolds, which had been roughly put on John and Sherlock shortly after Lara left, were removed. They opened their eyes, blinked a few times, and looked around. It was dark, and they were alone, besides a few of Moriarty's henchman. Both were sitting down, in very comfortable chairs, but after wriggling around a bit, they found that they weren't tied down. Sherlock stood, and a man immediately turned and pointed a gun at him. He put his hands up and sat back down. John looked at him and gave him a look that said, _Now what?_ Sherlock looked around, then his brows furrowed together. They were in a cinema. Sherlock quickly began making deductions. _Old. Not used since- _he smelled the air, and wiped his finger on some dust, inspecting it- _the year of... 1974. Built in the thirties. Rumors of ghost. But where? _He didn't know much of cinemas, he rarely went to any. _Must study for future... Problems. _From what he could hear, the street wasn't busy, but cars did pass by every now and then. Listening closely, he heard a car pull closer, closer, then stop, right outside.

Lara looked up at the old building and raised her eyebrows. Back when she was still with her dad, she had listened in on all of Moriarty's plans for Sherlock, which is how she knew what address to go to. She didn't know it was an old cinema, though. Jim Moriarty had a true talent for being dramatic. Lara turned around, and found that the cab had already left, and the street was just about empty. She turned back to the building and pushed on the front door, only to find it was locked. She stepped back and walked around to the side of the theatre. The side door was unlocked, and she slowly pushed it open. It was dark, and the only light came through the door. Immediately to her left, there was a staircase, and she quietly walked up the stairs. Turning right, she saw the whole of the theatre. Straining her eyes to see in the darkness, she saw Sherlock, John, and one, two, three of Moriarty's men. She looked up, and saw two balconys. _Thank God this place is so old, _she thought. If she could climb up to the balcony on the left, she could take out each of Moriarty's guys one by one. _Like a sniper, _she thought, and smiled to herself. She went down a thin hallway and looked for a way up to the balcony. Seeing the hallway was a dead end, and only led to the restrooms, she turned around and sighed silently. This was proving to be more difficult than she thought it would be, and she hadn't even fought anyone yet. Going the opposite direction she started, she quickly walked down another hallway, and was relieved to find the stairs. She quickly climbed up, wincing when one of the steps creaked under her wait. Lara reached the balcony and peered over the edge. She took out her gun, aimed, fired. One. Aim, fire. Two. Aim, fire. Three. She grinned wickedly, almost proud of herself. She raised her hand to wave at Sherlock, who was staring at her, but before she could, she was knocked out. Another of Moriarty's men stepped out of the shadows behind her and smiled. "You were right, she had no idea," he said.

Sherlock and John both jumped at the sound of a gunshot. The man to the left of John fell to the ground, dead. Everyone remaining turned to where the shooter was. Lara smiled at Sherlock and he sighed. He didn't like the idea of her getting in danger, but it was a relief to have a way out now. She shot the other two men and grinned. An absolutely wicked grin. He could tell that she was proud of herself, and that was not a good sign. Suddenly, he saw something move behind her, but before he could warn her, she was lying in a heap on the floor of the balcony. A man stepped out onto the balcony and said something into an earpiece. Horrified, John and Sherlock watched as the man grabbed an unconscious Lara by the wrists and dragged her away. Sherlock spun around the room, looking for an exit. Running to the first he saw, he yelled back to John, "Come on, we can't let them get away!" Sherlock and John burst out of the building and into the sunlight. It was getting close to late afternoon, but it was extremely bright compared to the nearly pitch black cinema, and they were seeing spots. John ran around the side of the building and saw Lara being stuffed into the trunk of a car. "Sherlock!" He said it quietly, but it was filled with alarm. Sherlock ran up to John, fast enough to see the car, but too slow to get to it before it sped away.

**Am I right when I say Lara is BADASS? Oh, wait, what are they gonna do to her?! Mwahahahaha!**

**P.S. Sorry this chapter is so short, but I am adding another chapter immediately after I post this one, so continue reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

"Ugh..." Lara rolled her head and groaned. Her back ached and her neck was stiff, there was a pounding in her head. She was lying down on what felt like cold concrete. Slowly she opened her eyes and realized, with horror, she was in an empty basement, and her hands were chained to the wall. Trying to be brave, she snapped, "You've got to be kidding me. Very original, Jim!" When the only response was that of dripping water, she began to let her fear set back in. She yanked her hands against the chains, but it only resulted in cutting her wrists, and she winced at the unexpected pain. Suddenly a deep laugh broke through the silence. It was dark and throaty, and it cut deeper into Lara than the shackles did. "No, no it can't be..." She whispered, unbelieving, and shook her head as if to rid herself of the thought.

Another laugh. "Lara, Lara, Lara. Laaaraaa."

"Dad." She leaned forward, peering into the darkness at what she hoped was not her father. He stepped out of the darkness, and she sucked in a breath: it was him.

"Lara, you've been a naughty, naughty girl." Her father had his hands on his hips as he walked up to her. His face wore a cruel grin, and his plans were etched on his face. Standing in front of Lara, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Swiftly he flicked the knife across her right cheek, and she kicked him in the side. He glared at her. "You're going to regret that."

Another flick of the knife, across her other cheek. Before she could kick him again, he slashed the tool across her leg, making a deep wound. Lara screamed in pain. Her father laughed again. "That's the sound I always loved," he said with a smile, raising his knife again.

Lara's father left her after an hour of torture, but he had done so unwillingly. He had poured a bucket of water over her and was about to drop a live wire when his phone buzzed, the boss was calling, something he took as a sign to stop. "I'll be back, and with others," he had said.

Lara sat against the wall, watching her blood mingle with the puddle of water around her. Her leg was bleeding heavily, and she couldn't even wrap something around it to stop the loss of her vital fluid. She felt the crimson liquid running down her cheek, felt her tears race downwards. She closed her eyes, knowing much more suffering was yet to come.

* * *

Sherlock stood by the window of his flat, his mind racing. He had been sitting or standing in the living room for three days. That's how long it had been since Lara was taken. He should have sent Lara home right after the first incident. John, as though reading his mind, said, "It's not your fault, Sherlock. She wanted to be here."

"No, it was her job. But still." He didn't look at John, but continued to stare outside.

"It doesn't matter, she didn't even have a good home to go to, Sherlock. You've seen her father."

Sherlock sighed, but it sounded more like letting out steam. He was furious, and John could tell. They had no idea where Lara could be. Moriarty, again, had left no clues. The great detective had nothing, and it was driving him mad. He started pacing the room, racking his mind for anything that could help. He stopped. "John, leave."

"What?"

"Leave, I'm going to my mind palace." He sat on the couch, and put his hands together under his chin. John knew there was really no point in staying, but as he turned towards the door, Sherlock's phone rang. They looked at each other, then towards the phone.

"It's Moriarty," Sherlock whispered. He picked it up and clicked the answer button. "Hello."

"Hello, Sherlock."

"What have you done with Lara? Where is she?"

"Funny you asked! She wanted to say _hello._" Sherlock pictured Moriarty smiling, and he heard a scream in the background.

"Lara? Lara! Are you alright?" Sherlock ran a hand through his hair, and John looked at him worriedly. Moriarty laughed on the other end of the line.

"Say hello, Lara. Your babysitter wants to see how you're doing." A ripping sound followed, along with an agonizing scream.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, don't listen to whatever he says, and don't come look for me. It won't last much longer," Lara said between sobs.

"Lara, Lara I will find you and get you out of there!"

"No!" Lara screamed, and Sherlock winced as he thought of what they might be doing to her.

"So, you great consulting detective, where are we? What have you got?" Moriarty asked, ignoring the screams behind him. Sherlock was silent. "Where are we?" He demanded.

"I... I don't know. Damnit! Alright, I admit, I don't know." The criminal mastermind laughed at this. "Besides, what kind of game is this? This isn't a game, you are just toying with me."

"Oh, Sherlock, you got me." He snickered. "The game hasn't even started yet. But I am having fun playing with Lara. Her screams are like... Like music..."

"Let her go, and face me!" Sherlock's face was red with rage and exasperation. "She has nothing to do with me."

"Clearly, she has everything to do with you." Suddenly, the screams stopped. "Goodbye, Sherlock." A beeping sound ensued, alerting Sherlock of the fact the call had ended. He dropped the phone to the ground.

John walked over to him and pulled him into a hug he would not return. They stood there for a moment before John pulled away and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Sherlock looked down at John, and his eyes were stormy. He was even angrier than he was before.

"They're torturing Lara," he said simply. John gaped at Sherlock.

"Why would they-"

"To get to me." Sherlock looked again at John, his eyes now sad.

"But you barely even know-"

"However, I now have a pretty good idea as to where she is."

"But, how?"

"Their voices echoed, which suggested a basement. There was a constant sound of dripping water, which says disused building. Again, I might add. Also, you could hear a slight hum of traffic, which means it was in an area with a medium sized population. What place within a 30 mile radius of the cinema meets all of these qualifications? The Commonwealth Institute." Sherlock held his phone out, and John looked at him blankly. "Kensington?"

John gave him a look that said he didn't believe a word Sherlock said. "And how in _hell _did you get that from what you heard?"

"Alright, I traced the call. But I know for sure that this is the building because of what I heard."

"Where did _you _get the technology to trace calls?"

"You could say I 'stole' it from Mycroft." John lips pressed into a hard line and he nodded, and Sherlock continued. "Remember, John? I'm the British Government's little brother."

With that, Sherlock ran out the door, and by the time John caught up to him, he was hailing a taxi, a look of determination on his face.

* * *

**Wait... Did I just torture your new favourite character? Oops, sorry! :)**

**Sherlock to the rescue! But will he be able to save her?**


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry I took so long to update! I've been busy... not really. I will try to update every couple of days though, from now on. No promises though. ;)**

* * *

_Drip._ _Drip._ _Drip._ Lara watched each drop as it fell, and she envied them. The drop would fall, _splat!_ And die, easily, and with no pain. Life had not been so kind to her. She knew it would end, though. Her agony would end. She could not bleed forever, and one day soon, she would simply breathe out, and never breathe in again. She longed for that moment. She didn't believe in God, heaven and hell, or any kind of after life. But she was still sure that ceasing to exist was much better than suffering. Her leg still bled slowly, and a dull throb persisted in her head.

Footsteps echoed through the room, and Lara guessed there were a few people. Maybe she could reason with them, convince them to simply slit her throat once they were done this time. _No, they will keep me alive until there is no space left on my body for them to destroy. _Her vision was blurry from her loss of blood, so she couldn't see from a distance who they were. She hung her head and tried to prepare herself for the misery to come.

Moriarty walked up to her, she could tell it was him by his expensive Italian shoes. He crouched and lifted her head up, so she was forced to look him in the eye. His face was expressionless, and she noticed that he was flanked by two men: her father, and one of her father's old friends.

"Sherlock isn't coming for you, if you were wondering." He looked smug. "Even if he knew where we are, he wouldn't care enough to come pick you up." He let go of her chin, and her head dropped back to her chest. She dared not make a sound as he stood and turned towards the other two men. His phone beeped and he said, "I'm done with her for today, but if you two have anything you want to do, I don't care." He walked away quickly as he took out his mobile.

Lara's father walked up to her, knife already in hand. She spoke before he had the chance, "Really, the knife, again? Ah, well. You never were one for change." She used the last bit of her energy to appear strong, and his face turned red. He motioned for his friend to come over.

"Hold her down," he said. The friend did as he was told, and smiled as Lara's father dragged the knife slowly across her stomach. Lara gritted her teeth so as not to scream again.

"You know, it's funny, really," Lara spat as soon as she got over the pain.

"What?" The smile her father had worn was gone.

"I'm going to die soon, and you can't hurt me then, no matter how hard you try." She smirked.

"Oh, we still have quite a bit of time before _I let you _die." The men laughed, but Lara ignored them, knowing that they were wrong.

* * *

John looked hesitantly at the building. It was new, with a tent-like design and a cool vibe to it. Unfortunately, the construction had been poor and the business using the building never took off. He looked towards Sherlock, then withdrew his gun, urging him to do the same. When they were both armed, Sherlock nodded at him, then at the building. "Let's go," he said, already walking towards the main doors.

The doors were locked, but the windows weren't. Sherlock climbed in first, and immediately went off in search of Lara, not even waiting for his partner. John scurried inside and tried to keep up with Sherlock.

"We'll find her faster if we split up," he said, and John nodded blankly. He was worried about Sherlock, but then again, he always was.

John had just started down his third hallway when he heard Sherlock softly calling his name.

"John! John, I found the entrance to the basement!" They both peered down the dark staircase, wondering whether or not they wanted to find Lara down there.

* * *

Lara was alone, and glad of it. Her tormentors had left her only minutes before, and only because their boss was going out. She was dizzy, she couldn't even focus on the water dripping anymore. She hadn't eaten since Moriarty had kidnapped her, and the hunger worked alongside her lack of blood to play tricks on her mind. Pain ripped through her body everywhere, and she felt as though she might pass out, like she did during Moriarty's phone call with Sherlock. She wished she could sleep for a bit, if the eternal sleep wouldn't come for her.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and she could've sworn it'd been only minutes since she had been left alone. She knew it was time to ask. As soon the footsteps got closer, she called out with a voice weak from screaming, "Please, please kill me. Please just let me die, you've got me, you've broken me, or whatever, let me die now." Tears spilled from her eyes, and the footsteps got quicker, they were running to her, but why?

A hand lifted her face up, but the grip was gentle, unlike her captors'. She opened her eyes and saw Sherlock, but she didn't believe it was him, she had told him to stay away. She closed her eyes and opened them again. He was still there.

"Lara, it's me, Sherlock Holmes, remember? It's me, okay? John and I are here. We're going to get you help." Sherlock looked at her with soft eyes as she said it, and her tears started coming faster. She shook her head no.

"Leave me," she whispered.

"Never," he replied. He looked around for a key to unlock the shackles, but couldn't find one. He raised his gun and shot the chains that held her to the wall. Lara's arms fell limp, and she nearly fell over onto her side before Sherlock caught her and picked her up.

"John, cover us," Sherlock rose to his feet with Lara in his arms, and made his way to the stairs.

John followed, gun raised, watching the high-functioning sociopath as he carried a young girl to safety.


End file.
